


Cauterize

by Somekindofcontraption



Category: Lore Olympus (Webcomic)
Genre: Angst, Body Worship, Drama, F/M, Face-Sitting, Lingerie, Oral Sex, Past Sexual Assault, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2021-01-02 21:43:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21168347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Somekindofcontraption/pseuds/Somekindofcontraption
Summary: Sometimes letting yourself be angry is part of letting go.Persephone takes back some control over her life. Ares is there to aide the process.





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> The next chapter is smutty. You could conceivably stop reading here, if that's the story you want to read.

There was a welcome home gala when Ares finally came back into town. Hera organized the whole thing, and true to form it was the event of the season. She missed her son so desperately when he went away, and she showed her love with endless trays of dainty hors d’oeuvres carried by nymphs in opulent clothing, champagne fountains, and extravagant entertainment musical entertainment. 

It was a long way off from being Ares’ scene, but it made his mother happy.

For these occasions he always put on his swankiest, most uncomfortable clothing and suffered the affair gracefully. ‘Gracefully’ didn’t mean ‘cheerfully,’ but as long as he didn’t start any fights or throttle anyone, Hera would be satisfied, and if Hera was happy then he was happy too.

Most of the guests only approached him for a polite nod or quick handshake before wandering off again. They rarely stayed to exchange more than quick pleasantries. The same old crowd filtering past, probably mostly there for the food and alcohol, never lingering to chat. The God of War was not what you’d call approachable, especially because was trying_ not _to be approachable.

Aphrodite had refused her invite to the gala. Ares had found out earlier that day from his mother, who looked at him pityingly, kissing his forehead before she left. Hadn’t even had the decency to tell him herself. 

When Hera left his room, he put a hand through the wall. Then he headed to the gym, going at the punching bag all day, worked it so hard that it had ripped clean off the chain, falling to the floor in a rain of plaster.

All he got for his efforts was bruised knuckles. Breaking things didn’t scratch the itch, so Ares had called Aphrodite for an explanation, only to be sent straight to voicemail after one ring, like she’d hit the ignore button. It left him scratchy under his skin, unsettled, tense. Strung like a bowstring. Suffice to say that as unapproachable as he usually looked, he was probably doubly so after the day he’d had.

Ares needed to fight, or he needed to fuck, and in that moment he wasn’t sure which, but he knew he wasn’t going to be able to do either until after the party was over.The party was shaping up to be as boring as every other one he’d attended, when a woman he had never seen before passed by him to fill a glass with champagne from one of his mother’s ridiculous fountains. 

Color him shocked. He hadn’t seen someone new at one of his mother’s galas in centuries. This woman, clearly a Goddess, drew the eye, being that she was deliciously shapely. The dress she wore was slit to her hip, and when she moved there was a tantalizing glimpse of the duvet where her thigh met her torso. Wide hips. _Very _thick thighs. Full breasts. There was no back to the dress, and if his dick twitched a little with interest, it was no one’s business but his own.  
  
Ares more than a little amused when he saw her filled a champagne flute, toss it back like a shot, and then repeat the exercise. The mystery woman gripped the now-empty glass against her chest, clutching it so tightly in her tiny pink hands that Ares expected she might shatter it. A constellation of delicate vines, blood red and twisted with thorns, crept up around her temples, inching up towards her crown as she stared at someone in the throng of people milling around the ballroom.

Ares didn’t need even an ounce of Godly intuition to sense the rage rolling off of her in waves. Someone had made this little spitfire very, very angry.

At that moment she looked up. Caught staring. Those furious edges softened, face flushing delicately from her cheeks to the tips of her ears, and she gave him a small hesitant wave, a tight smile. He raised one eyebrow, eyes flicking down to her empty glass and back up, an unsaid _everything okay there?_

A tiny shrug was her only response. He found himself surprised a second time that night when she made her way towards him, like he was suddenly the most approachable person at this Gods-forsaken party.

“Hello.”

“Hi.” 

“You must be Ares.” The woman offered one hand. It was so tiny when he took it in his own, her wrists thin and delicate, fingers half the length of his own. It was soft, but her handshake was firm. “I’m Persephone.” 

That explained it, then. Demeter’s only daughter, the one that she liked to keep shelved in the mortal realm like a pretty trinket. He hardly if ever kept himself abreast of the latest gossip on Olympus, so he hadn’t heard that the Goddess of Spring had finally gotten herself a longer leash.

A smirk tugged at the corner of Ares’ mouth. There was something lingering around this one, bleeding around her like an aura. Something repressed, simmering below the surface. Ares was captivated by it, and he pulled her extended hand to his mouth to press a kiss against it. 

There it was — with their skin touching, he could feel that rage burning hot underneath, rising up, like petrichor and steam after a rainstorm. So much rage in this one, and she didn’t seem the type to let it out. Accommodating, probably to her own detriment.

“What’s got you all worked up, little spitfire? I could feel you fuming from across the room.” 

Ares grinned, not letting go of her hand. Persephone’s cheeks went a pretty shade of deep plum. She huffed at him and it was stupidly, impossibly cute. 

“I’m not worked up! What makes you think I’m worked up?” 

Ares gave her a look that said ‘_God of War, remember?’ _She let out an exasperated sigh.

“Well, it doesn’t matter. I just thought… there was someone I was looking forward to seeing here, is all. He was late, and when he finally came it was with someone else.” Persephone looked up at him pathetically. That was it, then. All that rage tempered by layers and layers of sadness. “So I’ve been avoiding them. It feels like maybe I would have been better off staying home.” 

Ares scoffed at her, plucking the glass from her hand and moving towards a champagne fountain to fill it. Persephone followed as if caught by his field of gravity. “If you ask me? Fuck him. You’re the hottest Goddess here. Anyone stupid enough to pass up on an evening with you on their arm doesn’t deserve to see you sweat it.” 

Ares held her now full glass out. She considered it for a moment before taking it, hand steadier than he’d have expected given the way her face had flushed. Brave, this one, staring him down, trying to look intimidating. 

“I didn’t ask…” Persephone mumbled into her glass, taking a sip.

“Well, I just call it like I see it.”

“That sounds like a clever way of saying that you’re rude.” _Feisty._

“Sounds like maybe you’re a little touchy.”

“You know, I’m getting pretty sick of spoiled little Gods thinking they can do whatever they want with no consequences,” Persephone _growled _at him, those tiny red vines making a reappearance, creeping out from under her hair, studded with thorns, lips pulled into a contemptuous smile. 

Anything with teeth can bite. This little goddess was overdue for a serious show of teeth.

Ares leaned down to speak into her ear, breath fluttering the tiny red flowers that had begun to peek out of the budding vines at her temples. “Stop letting “spoiled Gods” walk all over you, then. You’re a spitfire under all that pinky exterior, I can see it. You’re a Goddess. Command respect. Insist on it.”

The sound of an obvious throat clear interrupted them before Persephone could respond. Ares turned around to see Apollo, dressed to impress fuming fit to fry an egg on his face, with a sour look his face directed right at Persephone. 

—————

Hades was late. 

Persephone had spent over two hours with Eros, letting him poke and prod at her, choosing underclothes and a dress and the perfect shoes. Black lace panties and bra, black garters. A black dress with no back and a diving neckline in the front. Slit all the way up to the hip.

It was a statement, that’s for sure. It said _come get me. _Or as Eros said, _snack. _

Eros had even curled her short-cropped hair for her, and together they’d arranged flowers in it, a mix of baby’s breath and plumeria. To finish it off, they tucked the clip Hades had given her just behind her ear. 

“Hades won’t know what hit him!” Eros gushed, looking over her shoulder, meeting her eyes in the full-length mirror. She hardly recognized that woman in the mirror. Sexy, confident. Somehow Eros always brought out the best in her. “Let’s go get him.”

Persephone had entered the party a bundle of nerves, hanging on Eros’ arm. The party was to celebrate Ares’ return, and it did feel a bit disingenuous to be there without ever having met him, but Hera had insisted and Hades said he’d be there. From what she heard the God of War was not the friendliest of people, anyway, so he probably wouldn’t even take notice of her.

Scanning the crowd it was easy to see Hades wasn’t there yet. He was too tall to blend in, and she’d have seen that sweet mop of white hair even with all the people around. Eros grabbed two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter and gave her one.

“What if he doesn’t come?” Persephone tugged nervously at the hem of her dress with her free hand. “It’s not as if we made plans to meet or anything, he just mentioned that he was coming. He could have changed his mind.” 

“Are you crazy? Hades _never _comes to these things unless he has to. If he said he’s coming, it’s only because he knew you were going to be he— oh!” Eros stopped mid sentence, pulling his phone out of his breast pocket. He smiled apologetically. “Sorry darling, it’s my mom, I’ve got to take this outside. The whole thing with Ares, you know, I’m sure she wants the scoop…” 

Just like that he was gone, and Persephone was left standing alone in the middle of the ballroom, feeling hideously exposed and very out of place. All around her Gods and Goddesses in heavy jewelry and ball gowns and three-piece suits moved across the floor, gathering in throngs, sipping champagne while nymphs and satyrs in tuxedos passed around delicate, fancy appetizers. 

The ballroom was draped in garland and tinsel, sprinkled with fairy lights and diamonds on strings. There were no tables, as guests were obviously meant to move, mingle, and dance rather than take a seat somewhere.

_‘Are those… champagne fountains?’_

Over the din she could hear Zeus in one corner, telling a lewd story very loudly to a group of people she didn’t recognize. Hera was several feet away with Poseidon and a woman he recognized from her portrait as Amphitrite. She was glaring at her husband over Poseidon’s shoulder.

Persephone wasn’t sure what to look at until, as if on cue, she saw Hades’ head just over the top of the group just entering the ballroom. Excitement swelled in her heart, and she was just about to wave when someone stepped to the side and she saw Minthe, grimacing like she’d smelled something terrible, clutching Hades arm. 

Crushed, she felt. Suffocated. Her heart stuttered, her hand frozen in a half-raised position, and she’d never wanted to be gone from a place more so than she did in that moment. She began to back away, searching for an escape route. Maybe she could go the garden, hide in the bushes until everyone had left, or jump the fence…

_‘Why did he… I thought he wanted to see me. I thought they had ended things. I thought…’_

The flowers began falling from her hair, shriveled and dead. In her mind’s eye she saw a tiny plumeria flower, grown inside her outstretched palms and offered to Hades in the gardens just outside the room they were standing in. Remembered a kiss on the cheek, a dazzling smile, the warm swell of hope rising in her chest, taking his arm. All of these thoughts and feelings racing through her mind.

‘_What is the point, why do I keep letting this happen, why do I keep letting all of these people hurt me. Please don’t see me, please don’t see me, please please—_‘

_“_Oh _look, _isn’t that _precious_, they invited that baklava girl. Let’s go say hello!” Persephone heard the shrill voice over the conversations around her. 

“Be nice, Minthe, please.” came the exasperated reply, but she didn’t stick around to see the look on his face, or to hear him stand there and let this woman ridicule her. Persephone backed away, slipping through the crowds, until finally she stopped at the opposite of the ballroom, a long ways away from Hades and Minthe. 

Hades was looking around, trying to find where she’d gone, but then Minthe dragged him down to kiss his cheek and made a beeline, Hades in tow, over to the bar. Persephone grimaced, and under all of that sick shame and disappointment was something else, something she didn’t quite no how to cope with.

Anger. She was angry. Furious, even, and shaking with it. It was a terrifying feeling, and strangely empowering, to have this much fury inside her and not immediately try to reign it in. How many times had she sat by, bearing down on her own feelings for appearances or for someone else’s comfort? How many times had she put her well-being aside for someone else? When had she ever been allowed, or allowed herself, to be angry?

Persephone thought of Apollo, shuffling her off into his car after school. How instead of saying no, or shouting at him, or doing anything at all, she’d gone with him and just gotten lucky when Cerberus came to her rescue. 

Reporters snapping photos of her. Artemis berating her for not taking her duties seriously. Hestia taking away the coat Hades had given her. Minthe almost getting her killed. 

Demeter, _her own mother, _strong-arming her into Eternal Maidenhood. Never ever considering for even a moment what her daughter might want. Everything was bearing down on her, so many moments where she was the very last person consulted on things when she should have been first.

Tossing back the entire glass of champagne, Persephone made her way towards one of the bubbling fountains where she’d seen other guests refill their flutes. She filled the glass up, drank it down, filled it again, drank it down. 

The dainty flowers that she’d so carefully arranged with Eros’ help had all fallen dead. She could feel tiny red branches like veins creeping out of her hair, unbidden. Persephone had never felt so unstable, so on the edge of her own control. She held the empty champagne glass to her, cool and grounding on the heated skin of her chest.

At that moment, she became aware she was being watched. A few meters away there was a very tall God, the color of a bloody summer sunset, with fierce eyebrows and sharp eyes. His suit was immaculate, stretching tight across broad muscled shoulders. Standing alone, the crowds giving him a wide berth, avoiding him.

Persephone belly fluttered, eyes lingering a little too long on his shoulders, his beautiful curls. She gave him a small smile, and waved. He raised one cheeky brow in return, eyes flitting down to her empty glass. He’d seen her little display, then, tossing back all that champagne like she was at a bar and not his welcome home party. 

Before she could think it through, she crossed the ballroom to meet him. 

“Hello.”

“Hi.” His voice was rough, a whiskey growl. Less haughty than Apollo but less bougie than Hades. The kind of voice that always sounded just a little bit smug about something. He was tall, too, even taller than Hades, and Persephone had to crane her neck to look him in the eye. She resisted the urge to float up to his level, worried she might lose her shoes in the process.

“You must be Ares,” she said, politely offering her hand, since that seemed to be the approved-of sort of greeting in Olympus. “I’m Persephone.” 

There was an assessing look followed swiftly by a smirk, and instead of shaking her hand he leaned over just a bit, took it, and brought her knuckle to his mouth for a kiss. Trouble, this one. A charmer, that’s for sure, or at least he thought he was. Her stomach lurched, flip-flopping, and she could feel the flush rising in her face, and she tried to ignore it. ‘_What’s up with me today?’_

“What’s got you all worked up, little spitfire? I could feel you fuming from across the room.” 

Ares grinned but didn’t let go of her hand, just held it in the air in front of them. 

“I’m not worked up! What makes you think I’m worked up?” Persephone did not squeak. Or at least, she told herself she didn’t. She pulled her hand away.

The look he gave her said it all. ‘_Stupid village girl. Obviously the God of War knows a thing or two about anger.’_

“Well, it doesn’t matter. I just thought… there was someone I was looking forward to seeing here, is all. He was late, and when he finally came it was with someone else.” Persephone sounded pathetic, even to her own ears, and she wasn’t sure in that moment what made her tell all of this to a perfect stranger. Somehow she felt like he might understand. “So I’ve been avoiding them. It feels like maybe I would have been better off staying home.” 

If Ares understood what she meant, he didn’t show it. With that same self-satisfied smirk he plucked the glass from her fingers and went to one of the fountains to get her a refill, her trailing after him like a lost puppy.

“If you ask me? Fuck him. You’re the hottest Goddess here. Anyone stupid enough to pass up on an evening with you on their arm doesn’t deserve to see you sweat it.” 

Ares held her now full glass out. Persephone’s brain took a moment to catch up with what he’d said, and instead of being flustered she found herself angry. Angrier, that is. Ares didn’t know her, she didn’t know him, and here he was presuming to judge her, and then objectifying her to boot? 

_‘Never mind that you’re excited. Being wanted by this God is exciting,’ _a devious version of her own voice whispered in her mind.

“I didn’t ask…” Persephone mumbled, sipping primly at her champagne.

“Well, I just call it like I see it.”

“That sounds like a clever way of saying that you’re rude.”

“Sounds like maybe you’re a little touchy.”

“You know, I’m getting pretty sick of spoiled little Gods thinking they can do whatever they want with no consequences.” Persephone was almost shocked at how forcefully the words came out, dripping with malice, her voice a strange growl she hardly even recognized. The anger ripping at her seams, leaking out in the form of red vines that she knew were growing bigger, a bloody halo. Red haze in her eyes.

Ares leaned down and spoke directly into her ear. Heat pooled between her legs, goosebumps on her skin, and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to fight this God or… something else entirely. 

“Stop letting “spoiled Gods” walk all over you, then. You’re feisty under all that soft exterior, I can see it. You’re a Goddess. Command respect. Insist on it.” 

Someone cleared their throat loudly, dramatically. Persephone peaked around Ares and her stomach dropped. Apollo was there, fuming, with that possessive look in his eyes that made her skin crawl, made her queasy. 

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere. _My girl—” _Apollo’s eyes were locked on Ares, despite that he was apparently talking to her. Talking about her like she wasn’t _there_, like it was _Ares _who had custody of her, like it was up to Ares who she talked to and where she was, like she was a _child. _“—should be careful where she wanders off to. A Goddess could get into a lot of trouble, wandering off by herself. Plenty of people here in Olympus who might take advantage.” 

All of the noise around her fell away. Blood rushing past her ears was deafening, a thunderous coursing. Ares leaned casually against the table, arms crossed against his chest, staring down Apollo but making no move to intervene with the exchange. Persephone took a deep, shaky breath, but all she could eke out were two words.

“_Leave, _Apollo.”

Apollo continue to look at Ares, drawn up and puffed out like a bird trying to scare a larger predator. He didn’t acknowledge that Persephone spoke at all, and it wasn’t helping, like sprinkling water on a blazing oil fire.

Without warning Persephone struck out like a snake, even though she was loathe to touch him, and grasped his wrist with tight fingers, her nails digging in and leaving golden half-moons on his purple skin. Apollo gasped, looking down at her like he was seeing her for the first time, like he hadn’t realized before that moment that she were anything more than decor at this party.

Apollo opened his mouth to speak. Persephone’s grip tightened, one single thin line of ichor dripping from one of the cuts. Red haze clouded her vision, and all she could see was Apollo in front of her. He looked _scared._

“Don’t speak. I’m not in the mood. Just _leave_.” 

For the first time since she’d met him, he listened. When Persephone released her grip on his wrist, he grasped it in his other hand, looking at her with a mixture of confusion, hurt, and fear. _Good._ Apollo hurried off to rejoin the crowd. Over his retreating back she saw him — Hades, with Minthe still huddled close. 

Talking to Zeus, but looking at her, as if trying to suss out the exchange he’d just witnessed.

Persephone stared. Just stared, expressionless. The red haze was still there, lingering at the corners of her vision. Apollo had run, and _she _had been the one to make it happen. She didn’t have to be afraid of him, and she didn’t have to spend her night in thrall to Hades, who obviously had already made his choice.

Hades looked hurt as she turned away, but as soon as she laid eyes on Ares the concern for Hades’ feelings tucked itself away in the back of her mind. Ares’ piercing eyes were stained with red, and he looked her up and down, half-lidded like a man drunk. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, and she couldn’t help but stare at it, and stare at the flush on his dawn-bright skin. 

When he spoke his voice was gruffer, heavy with the weight of _something_ that she couldn’t quite wrap her head around.“Come on, spitfire. Let’s get out of here,” Ares said, straightening up, holding out an arm. 

Persephone, face spread into a cheshire grin, took it.


	2. Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I accidentally wrote like 4000 words of smut and I am so, so sorry.  
Also this is now three parts, where the third part is also smut.  
Slightly gentler smut. But smut all the same.   
Featuring special guest: that painting we came up with in the discord chat

Persephone allowed herself to be led down the labyrinthine hallways of Zeus and Hera’s mansion home on Ares’ arm. His perpetually smug smile made him difficult to decipher, but she got the impression that he was frugal with his words, talking only with purpose, and so she chose to break the silence herself.

“So… where are you taking me?” Persephone said timidly. Of all the times to start losing her nerve…

“Someplace no one will bug us. You’ll see,” was Ares’ cryptic reply. 

They turned another corner in silence and suddenly Ares stopped, opening a door on their right and gesturing her inside with an over-exaggerated flourish. “After you!”

The room was an office, and it wasn’t exactly a mystery whose office it was. The room was stupidly extravagant, with gold and crystal fixtures, heavy velvet drapes. In the center of the room was an extra wide marble desk with gold legs. 

On one side were two tiny wooden stools. On the other, an enormous gold throne-like chair, studded with crystals and towering over the other two. A luxuriously plush white fur throw carpet decorated the floor under the desk.

But by far the most ridiculous and telling feature was hanging on the back wall behind the desk; a floor to ceiling landscape-oriented oil painting of Zeus, wearing a jewel encrusted crown and strategically draped with fur over his lower half but otherwise nude, long hair spread out on the floor behind him. 

The look on his face was obviously meant to be seductive. Persephone started cackling wildly. 

“W-what,” She managed in between bouts of laughter. “What in the name of Gaia is up with _that_!?”

“Well, you know Zeus,” Ares said, trying and failing to keep a straight face. “Always over the top.” 

“W-wow. I’m sorry, but can you imagine meeting with him for anything serious in here? You’d have to talk to him with _that _looking at you over his shoulder. I’d never manage!” 

“I think it’s meant to be intimidating.”

“It’s _not working!_” Persephone was still stifling laughter as she satiated her curiosity by poking around the office. When else might she get a chance like this? Peeking at a photo on top of a ornately decorated console table, she could hardly help it when her eyes lingered on a much younger Hades, looking stern as ever next to his goofy brothers. 

It was a candid photo, and he just looked sad next to them, unsmiling and set slightly apart.

“You didn’t have a date tonight?” Persephone asked suddenly, still looking at young, serious Hades and thinking of him out there, looking tired, Minthe clinging to his arm. 

“No. Someone was supposed to come. Blew me off, as usual.” Ares said, noncommittal. “It’s complicated, but we’re not what you’d call exclusive, if that’s why you’re asking.”

Persephone looked at him over her shoulder. He’d moved over to the desk, leaning casually against it and tracking her movements almost predatorily, something fiery creeping just behind his eyes.

“I just wanted to be sure. Seems to be a theme tonight, huh? For both of us.” 

Ares gave her a wry smile. “Seems like.” 

Persephone continued to wander Zeus’ office, stopping next at a statue in the corner of a nude nymph, garlanded with flowers. Ridiculously shapely, with comically large breasts, and hips even wider than Persephone’s. She snorted and moved on to see that while there were more photos scattered around, there were not many of Hades. 

Probably for the best. Persephone didn’t want to think about him now anyway. 

There was something exciting about this, she thought. Alone in the room with an almost-stranger. A smug, snarky, and incredibly attractive stranger, who she was pretty sure wanted her for more than her conversation. Someone straight forward, who didn’t mince words, and who seemed happy to be with her. 

Persephone thought she might be scared, after everything that had happened, but still riding the high of shooting down Apollo she felt strong, capable, and completely in control. Safe. Ares was gruff, and a little rude, but otherwise very decent, easy to be around.

Rounding Ares’ other side there was an identical console table. On this one, several pictures of Hera and their children. None of Hades, but none of Ares either. Probably best not to bring it up, might be a touchy subject, but she filed it away for later. 

Having satisfied her compulsion to be nosy, Persephone circled back around, stopping in front of Ares. In front of Zeus’ absurd desk, leaning so casually, an effortless sort of sexiness, with one hip cocked out, arms crossed over his chest. 

Persephone in contrast was tense through the shoulders and shaking a little with nerves. She wanted this, gods but she wanted this, and she knew that Ares wanted it too, but how to proceed…

“You always strung this tight?” Ares asked bluntly, and there was that eyebrow again, looking down at her with that shit-eating grin. 

“No, this is new.”

“Why do I get the feeling that it isn’t?”

Persephone stepped in closer, eyes locked on his. “You don’t know anything about me.” 

“I know a lot about you, after that little display in the ball room.” Ares uncrossed his arms, leaning back onto the desk. “Seems to me that you’ve never just… let go. Let yourself feel angry, be mad at someone when they’ve done you wrong. Not very safe, with the kind of power you’ve got in you. You need an outlet.” 

They were getting to it now, after a good stretch of time circling each other, getting closer with each pass. Persephone took another step towards him. “What kind of outlet do you suggest?”

Heat pooled in her belly, a sweet tingle spreading between her legs. Like touching herself in the safety of her bed, but _more. _Different, new, exhilarating_. _Persephone wanted him in primal, raw ways that she didn’t know she had in her, and it was clear from the way he licked his lips, his quickened breathing, that he felt the same intense attraction that she did.

The toothy grin that stretched his face made her face flush.

“The sweaty kind.”

“You’re so subtle,” she teased. Crass, but Persephone couldn’t help but laugh. She stepped forward one last time, close enough to reach out and touch him, so close she could feel the heat radiating off of him.

Ares reached out to frame her face with his hands, strong, thick fingers pressing into her cheeks, moving forward so that his nose almost touched her nose. “Who needs subtle?” 

Persephone’s brain zeroed in on those two points of contact, the heat generating in the two inches of space between the rest of them. The laughter in his eyes had given way to feral hunger. They were poised to topple over the edge of something volatile, savage. 

The way he looked at her like he was drowning, like she was the fresh air between him and suffocation. Persephone wanted to swallow him whole, or crawl inside him, or both. The thought surprised her. She laid her hands over his, swaying with the rise and full of his chest, hungry to touch him, to get close. There was power in that moment, in her hands over his, like he was waiting for _her _to say it was okay. 

All at once they made the move from sharing breath to surging forward into a bruising, crushing press of mouth on hungry mouth. Persephone dug her nails into the top of Ares’ wide hands where they were still tight around her face, and with one rough move she was pushed back until the bare expanse of her shoulders slapped against the office door behind her.

Persephone hissed into Ares’ mouth, the bright pain blooming between her shoulder blades where they’d hit the wall.It should have hurt, but it felt good, as something ravenous awakened in her that needed to be _satiated._When his tongue slid into her mouth it felt like the most natural thing in the world, hot and wet as it slipped over her tongue, coaxing her mouth wide.

One long, muscular thigh moved to part her legs and she whined, squeezing him tight between her thighs, an almost involuntary shifting of her hips in a delicious, slow slide against him, and she was glad her body seemed to know what to do even when she wasn’t quite sure herself.

Ares peeled the top of her dress down over her breasts, and she helped him along with a little shimmy. He broke free from her mouth with a gasp and moved to lave his tongue over one stiff nipple through the black lace of her bra, the fabric wet with his spit.

When Persephone felt his teeth she jumped, a choked moan escaping her, the pleasure-pain shooting straight down through her body. She reached around to unclasp her bra, and when she couldn’t quite get it she started laughing in spite of herself. All nerves, struck by the insanity of the situation she found herself in. Ares let out a small laugh too, teeth still worrying at her nipple through the material, but then she was finally able to get at the clasp properly and undo it.  
  
The bra fell to the floor, her breasts bouncing free, and Ares covered them with his hands, grasping them, rubbing his thumbs over her nipples until they were taut and flushed. Persephone whimpered his name, and he let out a pleased hum in response as he covered one nipple with his mouth, swirling circles around it with his warm, spit-slick tongue.

Then she was being turned around by the hips so that her back faced that ridiculous portrait (_don’t think about it, don’t think about it)_, and with a mischievous look on his face Ares began backing her up until the back of her thighs hit the frigid marble of Zeus’ desk.

“_Sugar snaps_, that’s cold,” Persephone squeaked.

“Sugar snaps, huh?” Ares chuckled, taking off his jacket and laying it down on the desk behind her. Persephone huffed at him and hopped up, scooting back on the warm jacket and then boldly started unbuttoning his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders and onto the floor.

“Don’t make fun of me, you jerk!” 

“Wouldn’t dream of it” Ares replied, smug, reaching under her dress to pull it slowly, stopping when it was up around her hips. She was captivated, watching him unwrap her like a present, revealing sleek black garters and french-cut delicate lace panties in stark contrast to her pink thighs.

Persephone was uniquely unprepared for the wicked grin that followed when he wrapped his hands around the seams on either side of her panties and pulled, the delicate fabric ripping effortlessly, and suddenly she was bare to him, exposed to the cool air. The soft pink trail of her pubic hair was already damp with her arousal, and she couldn’t even find it in her to be mad about her underwear.

“_Oh,”_ was the only thing she could come out with as Ares unbuckled his pants, dropping them to the floor, revealing tight black boxer briefs with a lengthy bulge straining at the front of them. Palming himself through the tight fabric, he dropped to his knees and drew her pelvis towards him, burying his face between her thighs. 

Persephone was sure she’d black out. It was by some sort of miracle that she didn’t scream, and she didn’t even think of this as a possibility until it was happening to her. Ares and that clever, hot tongue of his lapped at the hard nub of her clitoris, circling it, licking and sucking, occasionally pausing to push inside her, until she was a writhing, mewling mess, all sensation gone except what was going on between her thighs.

It was indescribable. Pleasure building steady inside her, dancing on the edge of release, until she almost couldn’t take it anymore. Persephone fell back, head hitting the desk with a smack, and when Ares pulled her legs over his shoulders, looping his thumbs under the garters he'd left her wearing, she gripped his hair in her hands, tugging at it until he groaned.

When her orgasm ripped through her it was so unlike anything she’d experienced before, her interior muscles shuddering and contracting and her legs shaking. Persephone clenched her thighs together around Ares' head.

_“ARES!”_

Then he was gone, pulling away from her to remove his underwear, cock springing to attention against his belly. It was big, not that she had much by way of reference points, flushed a sunset red and dark at the top. When she looked at it it twitched a little as if approving of the attention. Curious, she wrapped her hands around the length of it and squeezed.

Ares grabbed her wrist, gritting his teeth. “Later. As much as I appreciate the thought, this isn’t going to last if you do that. Not with those noises you were making.” 

The word later floated across her fuzzy consciousness, but at some point Ares had produced a condom from… somewhere. She didn’t think too hard on it, but she was grateful. Persephone watched with interest as he rolled it down until it wrapped him snugly down to the base of his cock. With several more long, open-mouthed kisses, showing incredible restraint, he leaned her back ever so slightly and positioned himself at her opening.

One shuddering breath, then two. A lingering kiss and he slid into her slow, almost gentle, so much more gentle than he’d been thus far. Persephone closed her eyes, steadied her breath waiting for pain, but she was more than ready, slick with want, and even when Ares was buried deep inside of her she didn’t feel the pain she’d expected.

“Fucking _fates_ Persephone, you feel amazing,” Ares murmured above her. Persephone opened her eyes to see him, and he was looking down at her like a man possessed. He stayed there for a moment, not moving, gasping for breath, and her heart grew heavy— she had done this, this was her. “You’re a fucking force of nature. Out there in that ball room. You’re so fucking powerful and I don’t even think you realize how you _look _when you let go_._”

Persephone shuddered, loosing a low and wanton moan. She didn’t know, didn’t know it could feel like this, didn’t know what the power she had over someone, even someone so powerful. Didn’t know what had been taken from her. Didn’t know—

Ares pulled back, back back, almost entirely removed from her, just the swollen tip of his cock inside, and then slammed back into her with sharp force, the clap of his skin on hers echoing in the posh office. Persephone cried out, and the stretch stung a little when he pushed back in, but it was a good sort of hurt. That feeling rising again in her belly as Ares paused again, looking into her eyes, and continuing a gruff string of praises just for her.

“You’re so wet for me, so hot and fucking _tight_. Your face when you came apart for me. Could live on that forever, just thinking about that look, you’re a goddamn miracle.” 

Ares pulled all the way out, and this time he reached a slick hand between them to grab his cock and rub the tip against her throbbing clit, circling, before pressing back inside. _Clap_, he slammed into her again, and Persephone realized the whimper she’d heard had come from her own mouth. Everything was so much, too much, and she could feel her insides trembling, clenching, and she keened as another orgasm wracked through her.

Ares cupped her cheek with one hand and she was coming with a strangled sob. After a moment of watching her face intently, he stifled her gasps with a quick kiss. “So good. I love your face when you come for me. So fucking beautiful.” Instead of pausing this time he began moving at a steady pace, pulling all the way out to the tip and then snapping his hips back into her.

The opulent marble desk creaked underneath them. Ares rose up to take hold of her hips, gripping the fleshy skin, fat bunching up pleasingly under his hands, and he started pulling her as he pushed. With Ares’ jacket under her Persephone slid a bit on the slippery surface, and she put one hand across her bouncing breasts, the other scrabbling for purchase to steady her, bracing on the top edge of the desk, back arching. 

A thought possessed her. One she couldn’t let go of once she’d had it, and she surged up to curlaround Ares at the end of the deck, arms wrapped around his neck, body pressed to the length of his torso, thighs open wide and framing his hips. She took his face in her hands and kissed him, a sloppy half-wild slide of mouths, and pulled back to look at him. 

“I want— I want—“ Persephone couldn’t quite get it out, and Ares chuckled, nipping playfully at her lower lip but not relenting. 

“What do you want, little spitfire? What can I do for you.”

Fueled by a new and exciting self-confidence, Persephone grinned and put both hands on his chest to push him back. Ares groaned, surprised, as his cock slipped out of her, slapping wet and glistening against his belly.

“Sit,” Persephone commanded, feeling brave, and she dumped off of the desk with a clack of heels as she guided him towards Zeus’ stupidly elaborate gold chair. Ares complied wordlessly, eyebrows raised, a surprised smile ghosting his mouth. Ares plopped into it with his legs spread wide. A string of clear fluid dribbled from the tip of his twitching cock and mixing with the sticky wetness that coated it.

Persephone paused to look at him, all that long lean muscle, a slight tremble in his taut belly, all manner of scars she hadn’t noticed before across his chest and shoulders. Broad, and big. Strong. With his eyes fixed on hers, Ares took his cock in one hand and began pumping it in a tight, insistent fist. Persephone was shivering, but not because she was cold.

Would he let her have this? Would it be okay? Looking down at him she thought, yes. Right now he might let her do just about anything. Maybe she should just dive in, not think about it…

Ares let out a desperate groan, squeezed himself, looking up at her with half-closed eyes. Resolved to get what she wanted, Persephone darted forward, climbing into Ares’ lap. It must have been alright because he positioned his cock for her, and she slid down onto him, a whole new hosts of sensations hitting her as he bottomed out. The change of angle hit a different part of her, pressing harder forward, and her clit pressed against him in the most delicious way.

The throne-like chair was plenty wide and armless, and she felt _tiny _next to Ares, in that chair where her feet even in heels couldn’t touch the ground. Small, but not helpless. _Worshipped _by this powerful God. When she wriggled her hips experimentally, Ares let out a choked moan, moving his hands to cup her plush ass. He lifted her and without ceremony dropped her back onto him with a slick slap, letting gravity do its work. 

Persephone saw stars, digging her nails into the hard plane of his shoulders, and before long she’d gotten the hang of his guiding rhythm, the undulating swing of her hips that slid her up and down on his cock. 

Ares had no more filthy praises for her, having devolved into low and breathy moans, biting at his lower lip. One hand remained squeezing her ass, the other moved to explore the rest of her body as she moved. Pinching one nipple, rubbing it, cupping the weight of her breast. Moving down her navel with just his index finger, going down where he slipped his thumb into her folds to find her clit and rub gentle circles into the tiny nub of wet flesh.

What happened next was a garbled mess of sensations, more than she could keep track of. Vision blurry around the edges, Persephone was compelled to start moving frantically, _bouncing _on his cock, all wet squelching and insistent moans and the drag of hands on slick-sweat skin. 

The smell of them both mingling together in the warm, humid air between them, that heady smell of their arousal and the spicy-cinnamon-earthy smell of his cologne and the soft floral smell that clung to her skin filling her nose, making it impossible to breath without breathing them in until every sense was overtaken by their coupling. 

When Persephone came a second time her hips stuttered, a sob ripping its way out of her, and she couldn’t help but stop moving as her orgasm took her. Ares’ sharp nails dug into her hips, fingers leaving light bruises as he scrambled to grab at any part of her he could hold on to. While she stilled, overstimulated, he plowed into her, unyielding, frantic.

Persephone grabbed Ares’ face in her hands, lips wet and parted and swollen, eyes gone crimson and hazy with a new surge of power. The red vines which had receded after the run-in with Apollo had returned, and he was shaking. She was drunk on the thrill of what she was doing to him, buzzing with it, as she looked into the eyes of the God of War and watched him come apart.

“Come on, Ares. I want… I want to hear you say my name. I want to see your face when you come,” Persephone murmured, capturing his mouth in a quick, open mouthed kiss.

“_Persephone!”_To her delight he shouted rather than said her name, and she could feel his cock throbbing. One thrust, then another, and then faltering, a third clumsy thrust and he was pulsing into her, filling the condom with hot semen, a strange but pleasant feeling.

Ares, imposing with his height and the broadness of him, was shuddering in her arms, head pillowed between her breasts, chest heaving as he shook through aftershocks of his orgasm. Persephone pulled him closer, trying her best to press her whole body to his. He lifted her off of his softening cock to reach between them and carefully pull the condom off, tossing it in a trash can under the desk, before wrapping his arms around her, embracing her tightly.

After several minutes of sated, trembling silence, the whole of what had just happened sort of caught up with her, and an unbidden giggle bubbled up in her throat. The red vines flowers, tiny crimson flowers that began to tumble from her hair, which she hadn’t noticed had grown over a foot since they started.

Ares began laughing too, a deep and breathy chuckle, and she pulled back to look at his face. Blissed out, is what he was. Flushed and happy. At least he wasn’t mad at her for laughing.

“Did that just happen?” Persephone asked, in between giggles. 

“_Hynngh,”_ was the response Ares came up with, words caught in his throat. He cleared it, and tried again, saying hoarsely, “Yes, little spitfire, it certainly did.” 

Their laughter trailed off into a comfortable silence. A tear ran down her cheek. Ares wiped it away with his thumb. 

“You okay?”

“Sorry. Not sad, just overwhelmed. That was— Ares, that was amazing.” That self-satisfied smile returned, and Ares leaned back as if to get a better look at her face. She gave him a goofy smile. “You’re going to think I’m silly. I’ve never felt so in control. I never thought it could be like that, that empowering. It was just…”

Persephone trailed off with a happy sigh, face flushing, and she wished she could somehow stop the tiny red flowers that were blooming out of control in her hair. Ares regarded her carefully. “M’not much for words but you’re— you’re something else. We both came to this party expecting disappointment. I don’t know about you, but I’m not leaving disappointed.” Ares sighed, shaking his head “Whoever you were waiting for, he’s an asshole. An asshole who, it sounds like, isn’t any good at fucking, because the problem definitely isn’t you. ”

Persephone considered his words for a moment. “We’ve never had sex,” she confided, opting for honesty in the afterglow. The silence was more than a little awkward. Ares was staring, gaping really. 

“What the hell is he waiting for?”

“We’re not at that point yet. We’re still in some flirting limbo, and it feels like we’re never going to get out of it. Anyway, I should probably tell you you, I’ve never really… had sex. Before today.” 

_“WHAT?” _Ares sat up, almost toppling her off of him. 

“Until recently I was supposed to be one of the Goddesses of Eternal Maidenhood, but I quit my scholarship because I knew it wasn’t what I wanted, and if feels like this guy is never going to make a move or choose me at all, and—“ Ares pressed a finger to her mouth.

“Wait, shut up for just a minute. You’re a virgin, and you let me fuck you on a desk?” 

Anger started bubbling up inside of her. She could recognize it, now, the way it ate away at the edges of her polite resolve. She smacked his hand away. “Stop that. I’m not a virgin, I just haven’t had sex. And yeah, _I _let you. Me. I wanted this, on my terms. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t need you treating me like I might break.”

Ares’ brow furrowed, leveling her with an intense stare. Nudity didn’t bother her, not really, but under his gaze in that moment she felt naked, laid bare in a way that had nothing to do with her exposed body. She saw the exact moment his brain caught up with what she was saying.

“You didn’t — you should have — _eugh,” _Ares rubbed his temples, struggling to find the words. “It’s obvious there’s a lot going on there, and I won’t pry. I trust your judgement, you know yourself better and what you want better than I do. But I’d have never done it this way if I knew, Persephone. I’d have at least been a little… I don’t know, gentler. Maybe taken you to my room instead of Zeus’ desk for a laugh.”

“At no point did I feel unsafe, or uncomfortable,” Persephone said simply, reaching up to run her hand through his soft curls. “You were exactly what I needed you to be.”

The silence was a long one. After some time Ares grasped her hips, massaging the soft fleshy curves, and he moved to press a kiss to the crook of her neck. Then without warning he stood up, grabbing her hips and lifting her up with him into his arms.

Persephone let out an incredibly undignified yelp as she was, once again, picked up like she didn't weigh a thing. Her arms wrapped around his neck, hanging on for dear life.  


“W-what are you doing?” 

“I’m not done with you. But if I’m going to fuck you again tonight, we’re going to do it the right way this time,” Ares growled. Persephone wriggled in his arms, and he clutched her all the more tightly to him as he carried her out of Zeus' office.


	3. Part Three

The mansion had gone completely dark, with the only source of light being the full moon outside, filtering in through what seemed like hundreds of floor to ceiling windows lining the hall. Outside, the barely illuminated gardens were visible further down the hill, with fairy lights that winked cheerfully through the gloom. From the sound of it the party was still in full swing, with music and revelry echoing down the long corridor. 

Thinking about the party guests, Persephone was suddenly incredibly aware of her bare breasts, the dress twisted up around her waist, her missing underwear; there’d be no mistaking what they were up to if someone came up the hallway, and nowhere to hide, either.

“Hey, wait! Ares, I’m practically naked. You _are_ naked, what if someone— _ah!”_While she wriggled in his arms, Ares gave her ass a short smack, grinning that cock-sure grin at her, and her heart fluttered.

“No one’s gonna see us,” Ares said, almost confidently enough to convince her that it was true. Almost. “But if they did, they’ll probably just think I’m the luckiest man at this damn party, and they’d be 100% right.’” 

“Oh, you so-and-so!” Persephone giggled, swatting him across the arm. “You’re incorrigible!”

“So you’ve said!” Ares rounded a corner and stopped at a door to their left, somehow managing to finagle it open with one hand and stumble inside, kicking the door shut behind them. “See? I told you no one would see us.” 

The room they’d entered was utilitarian, warm but bare. A simple four post bed with cotton sheets, a desk with a lamp and a couple of small pictures on it, a small trinket shelf with very little on it. No books, no clutter, no dirty clothes on the floor. Not much to suggest it was particularly living in, which made sense being that Ares had only just gotten home.

“Is this your room?” Persephone asked. Ares set her down on the edge of the bed. 

“Obviously,” Ares replied as he kneeled down between her legs. First he took off her right heel, then her left, his tousled curls brushing against her skin when he leaned down. He left a feather-light kiss on each of her knees as he tossed her shoes aside. Persephone giggled.

“That tickles!” 

Ares rolled his eyes at her, but his grin was playful when he reached up to unbuckle her garters first one, then the other, rolling down each stocking carefully, with both hands, brushing against her skin and tossing them carelessly over his shoulder and onto the floor. Persephone watched him, breathless and fascinated.

“Lift up,” he demanded with a tap on her hip. Persephone lifted her hips and he pulled the belt down and off her legs with the garters attached, then her dress; the dress bunched up and got caught on her hips on the way down, and Ares made a grumpy noise in his throat before finally managing to wrangle it off of her, thankfully without ripping it. It was thrown abandoned on the floor with the rest of her clothes.

Completely naked. No hiding all of that flushed, bitten-at, bruised skin. There was a different sort of exhilaration to being laid bare on a bed, something different than half-clothed sex on an office desk. But she wasn’t scared of it. 

As tall as he was, it was easy even from his knees to capture her mouth in a kiss. Ares braced himself with one hand on each of her legs easing her mouth open with his, the taste of expensive champagne lingering on their tongues. 

Ares broke the kiss, leaning back to look at her, and his hands started to wander, cupping each of her breasts, brushing a thumb over each nipple, running down each of her arms. She shivered with each barely-there whisper of those big, calloused hands. Surprisingly soft in his handling of her. 

Persephone reached forward to touch him, and he grabbed her wrist lightly, putting her hand back down on the bed, still looking at her with a great deal of intensity.

“What are you—“

“Worshiping you,” He said simply, cutting off the question, and leaning forward again he dragged his mouth over her jaw, tasting her, nipping at the soft already-bruised skin below her ear. “Just sit back, enjoy it.” 

“But what about you—” Persephone huffed as Ares bit at her already swollen lower lip. “What about the party?”

“I’m enjoying myself. Fuck the party.”

“Hynngh.” Persephone could only manage a strangled noise as he explored her, pressing lips and teeth and tongue, blazing a wet trail from her neck to her belly. Ares bit at the soft curve of her hip, making her squirm and her thoughts started to go foggy, but then abruptly stood up, crawling past her onto the bed.

Dazed, Persephone sat there for a moment trying to figure out why she was suddenly not being kissed.

Turning around didn’t do a thing to clear her head of the impending brain-fog. Ares sat in the middle of the four-poster, propped up on his hands in a casual lounging position, legs spread with the kind of confidence that only came from being, frankly, a bit of a smug bastard. 

Indulging herself for a moment, she continued to stare, eyes skating over the broad plane of his chest, the rippling stomach muscles, down to where his already-erect cock jutted up towards his belly from two strong, thick thighs. His cock was swollen, leaking, and flushed a deep rosy color at the tip. That same pretty flush was spread over his cheeks, his ears, his neck.

_‘For all that hot air,’ _she thought,_ ‘He actually is gorgeous.’_

“You coming, or you just gonna sit there and stare?” That smirk would be the death of her. Persephone moved to straddle his legs, and did her best to kiss the smug from his face, slipping one hand up into his hair, running her hands through his luxurious curls, enjoying the feel of them.

Her other hand drifted down to take hold of his straining cock, squeezing it, and slowly, carefully, she began to jerk her hand up the length of it. Confident, more confident than she maybe had the right to be, but with no particular urgency as she let herself feel him, feel his reactions to her.

“_Fuck,”_ Ares groaned into her mouth, holding onto her shoulders.

Persephone smiled and squeezed, evoking a shudder, before continuing her slow caress, up and down. Ares had stopped kissing her, and while he watched her hand, she watched his face, fascinated, watching every minute change and reaction. Before long he was shifting his hips up minutely, meeting her movements, thrusting into her tightly clasped fist and moaning. Strong legs shaking under the weight of her pinning them down.

Ares grabbed her face with both hands and pulled her into a rough kiss, their teeth clacking together awkwardly before he recovered enough to force open her mouth with his tongue, licking into it, melting into the kiss. When he came up for air he looked at her, a man single-minded and possessed with want, and tugged her wrist away from his twitching cock. 

“Wait, there’s something I want to do for you,” Ares said breathlessly.

“W-what?” 

“I’m going to lay down. I want you to come up here and put your legs on either side of my face.”

Persephone’s brain stuttered, and she was still trying to process the information while Ares lay back, shoving a pillow under his head, and motioned at her to come forward. Persephone hesitated, and then moved up, stopping bent over Ares chest, trying her best to keep her weight off of him. 

“I don’t know how, Ares. Are you sure about this?” Persphone bit her lip, her eyes meeting him, and suddenly _are you sure _seemed a stupid question, the way he was looking at her. Ares looked her dead in the eye, all lust and need, as he reached between her legs and started rubbing slow, soft circles on her clit, teasing at the hard nub underneath the soft skin.

“Sure as hell. I want to taste you again, I just need you to trust me for a minute.” Persephone jerked her hips, moaning, and he steadied her with his other hand when she almost fell forward. “If you don’t like it we can stop, but I think you will.”

After a moment’s hesitation Persephone moved up again, kneeling with her legs on either side of Ares head, dripping wet and hovering just a few inches above Ares’ face. His eyes were locked on hers and she shivered, legs buckling slightly with the effort of keeping her lower half elevated.

Ares put his hands on her hips and pulled her down onto his face.

With a long wail, Persephone let her head fall back when her sensitive clit made contact with his waiting tongue. Ares guided her hips, coaxing her to move in small circles, meeting his tongue as he licked gently, and then more insistently, pressing in short sure strokes with that clever mouth. Without warning he made a filthy wet sound, closing his mouth over her, massaging her clit with gentle suction.

Persephone gasped, jumping slightly. Looking down at him, past the tight pink curls of her pubic hair she could only see his closed eyes, the top of his nose, as the rest of his face was buried between her thighs. He looked blissful, ecstatic, rubbing his face into her as he reached further back and began fucking her with his tongue, his nose rubbing her clit and it was _weird_ but also so good, _so good_. 

It didn’t take long before Persephone was sobbing, crying out, and Ares gripped her hips with his nails digging into her skin, grinding her down onto him. She was bucking, writhing, riding his face with reckless abandon when the first orgasm took her, and she fell forward to brace herself on her hands as he continued to meet her frenzied rocking with his mouth.

Persephone couldn’t see his face from this position, and that was a shame, but somewhere in her hazy consciousness it occurred to her that she could still hear obscene slurping noises he was making, and she realized that he was groaning, too, a whining sound deep in his throat, as she rode his face. 

Ares held her hips, bouncing her on him, the flat of his tongue pressed against her clit. Rocking against him, his flattened tongue kept a constant gentle rubbing pressure, and her second orgasm took her with a broken cry. Her arms began to quiver, and a litany of his name spilled from her mouth.

“Ares, Ares, Ares, Ares, _Aressss,” _Persephone whimpered, her hips jerking of their own volition, and somewhere in the back of her mind she was worried she’d suffocate him as she squeezed his head tight between her thighs, but he continued to moan under her. 

Nothing could have prepared her for when Ares unceremoniously pushed her off his face. She landing on her ass on the soft comforter next to him on the bed, confused, while he scrambled to reach into his bedside table, pull out a condom, unwrap it, and roll it down on his throbbing cock with a groan.

Sitting down against the headboard, Ares reached out for her with frantic hands, and she scrambled into his lap and sunk down on his cock with a wild howl of pleasure. Being filled was an exquisite feeling, sating a need she didn’t even knew she had, as she savored the sharp almost-pain when he finally bottomed out inside of her, rammed in as far he could go, so deep at this angle he was almost pressing against her cervix. 

Persephone squeezed her muscles together, and Ares’ head fell back against the headboard, snapping his hips back and thrusting up into her. He leaned in to kiss her, hands steadied on her hips, guiding her into a gentle slow rocking motion that stimulated her, his cock only making short, shallow movements in her quivering cunt. 

It was a sharp contrast to the urgency with which he’d shown just moments before. His face was slick, a wet trail from his nose to his chin, and her skin slid across with their sloppy kisses. This was for her, she realized, to make her feel good. Ares’ body was quivering beneath her, the hands clawing into her hips as if to hold himself back from something.

The third orgasm took her by surprise, washing over her warm and heavy, like slipping into a hot bath. Ares held her through it, stilling for a moment as she trembled, kissing her forehead, her temple, before continuing to rock her.

Persephone pulled back to look at him, swaying with that gentle motion, undulating her hips. Ares’ eyes were closed, his head tilted back slightly, mouth parted with pleasure. A pleasant flush across his cheeks. He looked like the dawn, like a new day breaking, with all those sunset colors playing across the hard planes of his body. She took his face in her hands.

“Ares. Ares, open your eyes,” Persephone whispered. “Ares, I want to see you.”

When he opened them, Ares’ eyes were that beautiful, ethereal red, half lidded and unfocused with pleasure. He gasped when she came into focus, her eyes that same fiery red, tiny vines blooming again in her hair.

All at once Persephone began picking up the pace, eyes still locked on him, his precious face in her outstretched hands. She showered them with tiny flowers as her hair began slowly inching its way down her back, all control hopelessly lost. This was real, and raw, and _hers,_ and she was astounded by the weight of it, the importance. 

“Persephone…” Ares said her name like a prayer. Worshipping her indeed, like a supplicant come to gift her with something priceless. His hands moved to her face, too, like her reflection and he said her name again in that husky, lust-sodden voice of his. “Persephone.”

Hearing him say her name imbued her with a sense of urgency, that feeling of being powerful once again washing over her. She set a pace that was ruinous, snapping her hips, a deep resounding smack of flesh on flesh each time she slammed down on his cock, a sharp pain deep inside blurring with a resounding sort of pleasurable ache.

“I want to see you, Ares. Want to see you come. Please, please, please…” 

Ares let go of her face, grabbing at any and every available bit of flesh with bruising force, speaking gibberish in ancient tongues against her chest, biting at her clavicle. When he came, he leaned up and bit long and hard at Persephone’s neck with a deep, long moan, and she was keening with the force of it, as with several last staccato thrusts he came long and deep inside of her, and she could feel the heat of it filling the condom.

Shaking in every part of his body he slipped out of her, and Persephone moved to the side of him so that he could remove the condom. He tied it off and tossed it carelessly wrapped in tissues to the floor somewhere, before laying flat on his back next to her. Trembling, wordless, panting. Persephone pressed her body alongside him, her front to his side, her hand on his chest, resting her forehead against his shoulder and listening to their twin erratic breathing.

There was a chance that she had drifted for a few moments in that blissful afterglow, but when she became aware again of her surroundings, she found that she was shivering, sweat drying on her skin, going cold. All of the places where Ares was still touching her stayed pleasantly warm, if slightly sticky. She couldn’t see his face, with her own face pillowed against his shoulder, but she felt at peace just laying next to him, hearing his breath slow.

Neither of them said a word. Nothing needed saying in that moment. But after what felt like ages of panting through tiny tremors like earthquake aftershocks, Ares propped himself up on his elbows, leaning toward the edge of the bed and moving away from her. Persephone’s stomach lurched, anxiety creeping up in her chest, and she reached out one hand to grasp at his arm before he could leave the bed.

“Stay,” she asked, and it was more firm than she thought herself capable of being, but she couldn’t stop the tiny wobble of her lower lip when she spoke.“Please stay. Just for a little while.” 

Ares stared at her, not saying anything. A fiery haze drifted in around the edges of his eyes, rolling in like a bloody mist; something sharp, something lurking with hard edges and bared teeth. Persephone drew her hand away as if she’d been burned, her brave face starting to rip at the seams, but instead of getting out of bed Ares reached out to brush away the tiny pink curls sticking to the side of her face

“I’m not that kind of asshole,” Ares said gruffly. He turned away from her and after a bit of searching around under the bed, Ares pulled up a dark, fluffy blanket and threw it over them both, settling in with his front to hers and covering her in a cocoon of blanket. It was warm and dark with her head covered, and as he snaked his arms around her she heard him say quietly from somewhere above the blankets, “You were shivering.”

Persephone wriggled up to free her trapped head, looking up to find Ares looking unbelievably grumpy and pensive, thick eyebrows drawn down tight over those reddish eyes, mouth pressed into a grimace. His height was staggering in this position; her head was at his chest level and her feet couldn’t even reach his. Persephone’s mouth twitched, and she cleared her throat, catching his eye. “I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t apologize for asking for things when you want them,” Ares grumbled, his hands trailing down to grab her by the rear, and he scooted her up so that they were nose to nose. Hesitating, he spoke again. “Someone really did you wrong.” 

It wasn’t a question.

“Yeah. Yeah, they did.” When silence swelled between them, it was a comfortable sort of silence, the lived-in kind where you can just take comfort in another person’s breath, their heartbeat. Ares threw one leg over her, wrapping her in his arms, and the effect was like a weighted blanket; she felt safe, she realized, secure, all of the tension leaking out of her with each small touch of his fingers on his skin. 

With a touch of regret Persephone’s thoughts wandered to the party goers on the other side of the house, drinking champagne and enjoying a night out, with all of their politics, all of their double speak and their problems. There was something honest about being tucked away in Ares’ bedroom. Peaceful, is what it was. Healing.

So much of the hurt she’d been carrying, burned out of her. An open wound, cauterized by the heat of them.

“We’ll have to get back to the party soon. I’m sure they’ll be looking for their guest of honor,” Persephone said lightly, but not making any effort to move.

“No one would dare,” Ares deadpanned.

“Hera would dare.”

“You have a point.” 

“…You’re very good to her.” 

“Hrmph. Someone’s gotta be,” Ares replied darkly, tightening his grip around her. 

Persephone felt suddenly bolstered, confident. She put her hands on his chest, pushing him over and moving astride him, her flowing locks of pink hair dusted with blooms and curtaining their faces as she leaned in to press a kiss to his slack, surprised mouth. Persephone pulled away just enough to speak. 

“You were very good to me, too,” Persephone whispered, voice brimming with warmth. “I don’t know how to say tha—“ 

“Don’t.” Ares said firmly, softening the sharpness of his interjection with another kiss. “I didn’t do anything.”

“You _did.”_

“All I did was respect you. The actual bare minimum. I’m only sorry that you think you need to thank me for it.” Ares made a frustrated noise. “I hope you made this guy pay, Persephone. I hope he regrets what he did. I hope if he’s the same guy who came here with someone else, you don’t give him the time of day, because he doesn’t fucking deserve you.”

The God of War was a complicated man. The lingering kiss she pressed to his mouth was blissfully uncomplicated, and neither of them mentioned the delicate fall of red petals around them when it started up again, or the desperate press of her hands to his face, or the way he surged up to meet her with the whole of himself. They came out on the other side of the kiss panting, breathless. Ares looked at her hungrily, red eyes looking into red eyes. 

“We better get out of here, little Spitfire, or we’ll never get back to that party,” Ares said, voice husky. Persephone nodded, dazed, and they disentangled themselves to get dressed. 

Ares’ clothes were still in Zeus’ office, as were Persephone’s ripped underwear and her bra, but when she mentioned as much he gave her a mischievous smile, selecting another suit from his closet. “I’ll get them later.” 

“People will notice.”

“Do you care?”

Pulling her dress down over her hips, she looked at herself in the mirror inside of Ares’ closet door, adjusting her dress over her breasts, looking at the way the fabric clung to them without a bra, pleasing and round and soft. Ares had sucked deep bruises just below her ear, and peeking out from the slit up her thigh were small fingerprint shaped bruises. 

_Fertility goddess, indeed._

“…No,” Persephone responded thoughtfully, as a now fully dressed Ares looked at her over her shoulder through the reflection, one hand on each of her shoulders. She matched that mischievous grin with one of her own. “No, I actually think I don’t.” 

When they walked back into the party it was separately. Ares first, slipping in through the door they’d walked out of and taking his place back at the head of the room, waiting for his mother to summon him to thank everyone for coming. 

Persephone came through the same door several minutes later, making her way towards the bar to get a glass of water and blend with the crowd. Hades and Minthe, as Hera would later mention, had had some kind of argument in the garden and left together about an hour before. 

As she sipped at some water and waded into the crowd, Persephone caught the eyes of Eros, who glanced up from where he was leaning against the wall, texting frantically on his phone. The bug-eyed surprised look that he gave her was comical.

“Persephone, where have you been? I got caught up talking to an old friend after I took that phone call, and then I came back in and no one had any idea where you’d went! I asked everyone, and no one had se—_OH MY GODS!” _

Eros tossed his phone with surprise, reaching out to lift up her hair, looking wide-eyed at her neck where she knew there was a giant, mouth-shaped bruise. Suddenly he was looking her over with a considerable amount of scrutiny, no doubt realizing that she was now braless and tousled. 

Persephone flashed what she hoped was her most innocent smile. It didn’t work. Eros grinned, a cat with a canary. “Tell me _everything!” _

Persephone sipped primly at her glass of water. “I don’t think I will just yet.” 

Ignoring Eros’ cries of protest, Persephone looked out on the crowd, the endless bodies milling through the ball room. Over all of it her eyes met Ares’, who was looking at her intently across the sea of people. He gave her a cheeky wink, and she grinned in return. Eros was too busy fussing over her to notice.

Some time later, after Eros had giving up and wandered off for a bit, Hera came over to “introduce” Persephone to Ares. If his mouth lingered a little too long on her knuckles, if the way he looked at her was a little too familiar, no one said a thing about it one way or another. Not even Hera, who was distracted with watching her husband flirt with a nymph serving canapés.

That evening as she arrived back at Artemis’ house, Persephone’s phone buzzed. A simple two word text message from an unknown number. 

_Later, Spitfire._

Persephone’s heart fluttered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Later on that evening Hera would find an unfamiliar set of underthings in Zeus’ office, along with a used condom in a trash can. Ares was not big on details.
> 
> Thank you all for reading. I hope you enjoyed this ride, because I certainly did. Hopefully this is not the last you see of this pairing - you know, FOR SCIENCE. A very special thank you to all of you for reading, commenting, and encouraging me to finish this. I love you all.


End file.
